


House of Memories

by BinaryIsForRobots



Series: Burn it down, Build it up [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Inspired by Music, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses, Tragic Romance, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, danzo is a creep, he can rot in hell thx, legit i hate him as bad as danzo, sarutobi is the worst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2020-09-25 10:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaryIsForRobots/pseuds/BinaryIsForRobots
Summary: The lonely moments just get lonelier the longer you're in love than if you were alone...//The stories from the past the Legendary Sannin will never tell.//





	1. The innocent can never last

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
So basically, while working on Chase the Dawn I realized I'd be bogging the story down with a billion Sannin flashbacks if I put all of them in there. So- they'll go here instead. Enjoy this Sannin angst with a vague musical inspo :P

“I’m sorry-”

“-We’re so fucking far past that it’s unbelievable!”

A crash. The sound of breaking glass.

Jiraiya clamps his hands tighter over his ears, desperately trying to block out the fighting. Curling up tightly on the floor of his closet, he prays they’ll stop yelling soon.

He should be used to the yelling by now- it happens so often that it should be mundane. But it never gets better, never gets any less terrifying. It never gets any less lonely in the darkness of his closet- the only refuge from the storm outside.

Today feels different though. His mother is so _ beyond _angry. Beyond hurt. And his father- he seems sad. Desperate, even. So why-

“I’m _ finished, _Yokaze! I’m fed up with your bullshit!”

-Oh. 

Jiraiya’s heart sinks, even though he should probably feel relief. He uncovers his ears so he can hug his knees tight, allowing himself one small whimper.

“What about Jira-”

“-What the hell _ about _him?!” he hears his mother sneer. “You want me to waste my life sticking around this shithole so I can watch him grow up to be a fucking loser like you?! Don’t make me laugh!”

“Raimei-”

“-Save your fucking breath! The both of you can burn in hell!”

Another crash. More glass breaking. His dad keeps talking, but he can’t hear what he’s saying. The door slams, hard enough the whole apartment shakes.

Then, finally- silence. Deafening, agonizing silence that stretches for eons before he hears his father groan, then head to presumably pour himself another drink. Jiraiya doesn't leave his closet for another eon after that.

His footsteps are soft, tentative- he doesn't want to believe what’s just happened. Even though he couldn’t possibly deny it.

He should probably be crying. Or raging. Or something. But all he feels inside is cold.

He looks at the chips in the paint, at the cracks in the wall. At the broken glass on the floor. Anywhere but at his no-good father getting plastered not five feet from him.

He doesn't look at his father, and he doesn't cry. He doesn't want to give his mother the pleasure.

* * *

“Jiichan, are you okay? You look sick!”

Senju Hashirama forces himself to laugh; it does nothing to lessen the overwhelming exhaustion displayed plain on his face. 

“No, no I’m okay Tsunade,” he tries to reassure her. “I’m just-”

He scratches at the back of his neck, a heavy sigh escaping him.

“-I’m tired, that’s all.”

Tsunade pouts up at her grandfather, making her disbelief plain. Another laugh, this time more genuine, bubbles up in his chest.

“Don’t gimme that look, sunshine! I’m okay!”

He scoops her up in his arms and hugs her close; the girl squeals in surprise.

“Look, I’m gonna take a nap and I’ll be good as new,” he promises. “Why don’t you come keep me company? I bet dinner will be ready when we wake up!”

After pretending to deliberate for awhile, Tsunade nods her assent, hugging Hashirama’s neck. He carries her to the big, comfy armchair he always loves to take his naps in. She cuddles up against him; Hashirama pets her soft, blonde hair, humming softly. His hand and his voice quickly lull his granddaughter into a half-conscious state.

“Jiichan, can we play cards after dinner?” 

“Anything you want, Tsunade.”

He’s already nodding off. His eyes flutter closed, and he yawns.

“Love you, sunshine,” he says, softly. “So much.”

“Dinner’s ready!”

Tsunade grumbles, rubbing sleep from her eyes and stretching out.

“Coming, mom!” she calls back.

She giggles, tugging at Hashirama’s shirtsleeve.

“C’mon, Jiichan, dinner’s ready! I’m hungry!”

He doesn't stir. Tsunade scrunches her nose, tapping him on the forehead.

“Jiichan, stop being silly! Let’s go eat!”

Hashirama does this sometimes- pretends to still be sleeping because he doesn't want to move yet. He says it’s because he wants to practice his poker face, but it never seems to help him. Tsunade pouts, climbing off the chair and poking her head out of the living room door.

“Tobiji, Jiichan’s being goofy again!”

In about a minute, her stern-faced great-uncle arrives, arms folded, annoyed.

“Quit fooling around,” he grumbles. “I need to get back to the office in an hour and I’d like to eat before then.”

He reaches out to rouse him-

“-Hashirama?”

-he seems to notice something. His face changes- the most minute change, almost imperceptible-

“...Hey, Hashirama…”

His voice immediately loses all its sternness. His scarlet eyes widen, and he grabs Hashirama by both his shoulders, shaking him roughly. Tsunade’s heart leaps into her throat, every nerve in her body lighting up with the realization that something is very, very wrong.

“Hashirama, wake up-”

“What’s going on?”

“Mommy, Baachan, something’s wrong with Jiichan-”

It doesn't take long for the women to figure out what’s going on. Her uncle is still shaking her grandfather in a futile effort to wake him. Hashirama is limp, his head flopping around like a ragdoll, his face not moving from that peaceful, melancholic expression.

“Oh no-”

Tsunade yelps when someone picks her up.

Mito hugs her tightly, cradling the child’s head against her shoulder so she doesn't have to look anymore.

“Hashirama, please-” Tobirama is pleading, practically begging.

(Tsunade has never heard her uncle beg before…)

“Jisama, please stop. You know it’s useless," she hears her mother implore.

“Baachan-” Tsunade whimpers.

“Shh, you’re alright.”

Even though her grandmother tries to comfort her, her tears drip onto Tsunade’s head, and she can feel her hands trembling. She holds on tightly, shutting her eyes and praying this is all a bad dream- when she wakes up, Jiichan will be smiling at her, shuffling his treasured deck of cards and laughing, just like always, right?

(She wishes. So badly.)

Tobirama howls in grief, in _ anguish, _and Tsunade can’t help herself anymore. She wails against her grandmother’s neck, as her entire little world crashes down around her.

* * *

“Oroma- Oroma, baby, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry…”

A bloody path cuts its way across the wooden floor as the woman drags herself across it. Though it obviously takes a great deal of effort, she manages to raise her hand up. To muster up one final smile toward the petrified child standing before her.

_ Her _child.

“Mama-” the child whispers, horror on his breath.

She cradles his face in her hand, as gently as though he were a porcelain doll. Still more blood drips from the corner of her mouth, joining the growing puddle on the floor. There’s tears in her gold eyes- eyes that are rapidly going cloudy.

“I’m so sorry baby, I couldn’t save you.” she speaks quickly, frantically, desperate to get the words out before she expires. Her voice is hoarse, weak, yet full of an indescribable fondness. “Baby, you have to be brave, okay? I couldn’t save you, and I can’t be here with you, you’re gonna have to be brave, I’m so sorry-”

“Mama please, no.”

“Shh, Orochimaru please don’t cry. Mama’s so sorry…love you so much...”

She doesn't have the strength to hold herself up any longer. She collapses into that pool of her own blood, leaving a crimson handprint on her child’s cheek.

“Don’t go-” 

Despite Orochimaru’s plea, her last breath flees in a horrible rattle. Orochimaru stares at her, then over at the body of the man he used to call Papa, slumped over in the doorway to the kitchen.

He’s alone. Truly, painfully alone.

Low thunder rolls outside, rain beating against the windows. The wind is low, mournful- fitting, really.

With a defeated, sad sort of sound, he curls up at his mother’s side, not minding that he’s being soaked through in her blood. He shuts his eyes (eyes that are gold and bright, like hers _ used _to be), trying to forget the world.

Eventually, somehow, he manages to drift off to sleep. He’s not sure for how long; he does know that when he wakes, he isn’t alone anymore. He cracks his eyes open, glancing up tiredly at the Uchiha officer staring down at him in shock.

“Holy shit- the kid’s alive!” the man yells. Footsteps, and about a half dozen other officers rush into the room. The first one crouches down, a heavy crease in his brow.

“The hell happened, kid?” 

Orochimaru opens his mouth, but he can’t will his voice out. He whimpers, burying the face in the filthy silk of his mother’s kimono.

“Take him to the station. We’ll talk to him there.”

He cries when the officer picks him up, rather carelessly throwing him over his shoulder. But he cries silently, unable to wail or scream or beg the way he wants to.

He’s given a heavy blanket when they arrive at the station, and seated in a plain white room while adults talk outside. The blanket weighs him down, keeps him grounded- it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

Even though he desperately wishes this weren’t real.

A few people try to talk to him. They try to ask him what had happened, but he still can’t find his voice. They talk amongst themselves, shaking their heads and frowning.

_ Did I do something wrong? _

He knows he should probably still be crying. Or something. _ Anything _other than just sitting here. But all his energy seems to have left him, and he can’t even muster up a whimper anymore.

He feels strange. Hollow inside, empty, nothing- 

-It’s the worst feeling in the world.

  
  



	2. As my memory rests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting in the graveyard.

Everyone in the shinobi world is well aware of the unfortunate side effects war can bring. The rush of fear when the lights are cut off without any warning. The sandpaper in your throat that can’t be soothed, because all the wells have been contaminated. The gnawing ache in your stomach because there just isn’t enough food in the village to go around.

Yes, everyone in the shinobi world understands this well. But the adults, at least, are able to understand the  _ why.  _ The children, however-

All they understand is the hunger. The thirst. The fear that comes with wartime.

Konoha had, for a time, been spared from the worst of it. They’d kept their supply lines strong, kept the enemies from the village gates. But times quickly changed, and the combined efforts of Kiri and Iwa have successfully cut Konoha off from the resources they’re accustomed to.

Hardest hit by the litany of sudden shortages is the village orphanage. Always the last to get any sort of aid, the already sparse cupboards quickly run bare, and the children suffer greatly for it.

Orochimaru wraps his arms tighter around his middle, squeezing to try and suppress the ache. When did he last get to eat? He can’t quite remember, but it’s definitely been a few days, at least. He doesn't say a word about it- doesn't say a word at all, really. After all, what good would that do?

It’s late at night, and he should be asleep like everyone else, but he can’t get his mind or his empty stomach to quiet down enough to rest. So he stares up through the hole in the ceiling above him, out at the stars, at the full moon that casts its eerie, milky white glow into the room. 

It reminds him of his mother, and it makes his heart clench painfully. 

He stretches his tiny hand out toward it, fingers splayed wide, like he could grab the moon out of the sky. He remembers the stories his mother would tell him. The story about a great, white serpent who tried to eat the moon, that left its mark in the craters on its surface. The story of the argument between Tsukuyomi and his elder sister that lead to the separation of day and night. The tales of sorcerers and mystical creatures she’d whisper to him in her lilting, lovely voice, while she pet his hair and tucked him snugly into his bed.

Even though it wasn’t even that long ago, the memories feel distant, faded. Even still, if he imagines with all his might, he can  _ almost  _ feel her hands caressing him (rough, calloused, worn, but so, so very gentle). He can almost hear her voice, singing strange lullabies in archaic words he doesn't quite understand. He can almost hear his father laughing in the doorway of his bedroom, see his soft, brown eyes light up when he hears his child call him  _ Papa. _

_ “You’re filling his head with fairy stories, Kiyo.”  _

_ “What’s wrong with fairy stories?” _

_ Papa laughs again, shaking his head. _

_ “Nothing, nothing. Just ignore me, okay?” _

The painful growling of his stomach pulls Orochimaru from his fantasy, back to this bleak reality in front of him. The reality that no amount of daydreaming can ever erase. The wind cutting through the paper-thin walls makes him shiver, his threadbare blanket not nearly enough to banish the cold.

He’s scared, he’s cold, he’s hungry and he’s alone. 

But Orochimaru doesn't say a word. Because if he were to give a voice to these rotten feelings inside him, he knows he would be scolded. Called ungrateful, because some children don’t even get these ratty old blankets, the pitiful excuse of a roof kept over their heads. Doesn't he know that, compared to orphans from other villages, he has it good?

Cold comfort. Orochimaru allows himself one small whimper, quiet enough so as not to disturb the other children.

The stars above him twinkle away merrily, far away from such ugly things as war and hunger and loneliness. They dance around the bright full moon like there isn’t a problem in the world.

He can’t find any sleep, so, in spite of the warnings and threats the orphanage staff have given him, he gets up off his futon, climbing out the tiny window and out into the chill of the autumn night.

* * *

Her mother has warned Tsunade that going out on her own is dangerous. That she needs to stay near, where it’s safe. But Tsunade can’t bear it; she sneaks out despite those warnings, to go to the edge of the graveyard where her grandfather rests, beneath the small willow sapling they planted last year, when he’d died.

She sits cross-legged in front of it, letting the tears come freely.

“I miss you, Jiichan,” she sobs.

She sits there in the dark for what feels like forever, with the stars and moon above keeping her company while she grieves. Alone, until-

“Why are you crying?”

Tsunade bites her lip to hold back a shriek.

“It’s none of your business!” she snaps, trying to squash her fear and sorrow both down. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Because you’re crying.”

“Shut up!”

Tsunade hurriedly wipes the tears off her face on her sleeve, standing up and trying to put on a brave face before she turns around to face her invader.

She takes a step back, taken off guard by the bright gold eyes staring back at her, through a curtain of tangled, filthy black hair. The other child cocks his head at her, holding a wreath of delicate purple flowers in tiny, white hands. 

He’s so  _ small _ . He’s so small, and his eyes are so bright, she finds herself a little stuck.

“...Why are you here, anyway?” Tsunade sniffs. “We’re in a graveyard.”

“I’m visiting my mother and father.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _

“I...I’m sorry.”

The other child shrugs his skinny shoulders, fidgeting with the wreath in his hands. He takes a step closer to her, yellow eyes turning toward the willow.

“Who’s buried here?” he asks.

“My grandpa,” Tsunade answers, her voice breaking on the last syllable. 

“Hn.”

Those strange, serpentine eyes wander from Tsunade to the tree, then back again. He pulls a blossom from his wreath and holds it out toward her, offering up the tiniest smile.

“Mama said that flowers help cheer people up when they’re sad,” he explains. “So you can have one.”

“Eh?” 

“Take it. Mama grew lots of them, so I have more.”

Hesitantly, Tsunade plucks the little flower from his hand. She looks him over warily.

“Hey...you go to the academy too, right?” she asks. “What’s your-”

“Orochimaru,” the other child answers. “And you’re Tsunade, right? We’re in the same class.”

Tsunade blinks, surprised that he remembers her name (and a bit embarrassed that she didn't remember his).

“Uh, where’re your mom and dad buried? I can go with you...I mean, if you want?”

“I don’t mind.”

She follows him down a lonely path, the full moon overhead illuminating the drying grass and fallen leaves. Orochimaru lays the wreath between two nondescript graves, kneeling in front of them reverently. 

“...Oleander was her favorite,” he explains, when Tsunade sits down beside him. “I still sneak out to take care of her bushes. She’d be so sad if they died…”

Tsunade frowns; Orochimaru looks upward, toward the endless, star-studded sky above them. She copies him, following his eyes to the full moon.

“It’s lovely, right?” Orochimaru says. His face is blank, but there’s a light in his eyes, now.

“Yeah.” Tsunade cocks her head. “I always wondered what those dark spots are, though.”

“Mama said there was a great big snake once,” Orochimaru explains, that light in his eyes flickering. He’s smiling again; a sheepish, lopsided smile that bares a single sharp canine tooth. “He befriended a hatchling raven that had been kicked out of his nest. So the raven flew him up to the moon once it grew up; he wrapped himself around it and tried to eat it, but Tsukuyomi got angry and gouged his eyes out as his punishment.”

“What, so the dark spots on the moon are teeth marks from some giant snake?” Tsunade snorts. “How’d a raven even fly a snake that big up to the moon, anyway?” 

“I don’t remember- Mama would tell it to me while I was falling asleep. I know it’s silly- I just thought it was a fun story.”

Tsunade hums.

“Jiichan told me a story that the dark spots were tearstains,” she says, quietly. “Because Tsukuyomi is still upset that he fought with his sister, and now they don’t speak to each other.”

“Hm.”

Orochimaru leans back on his hands, and sighs.

“...How come he’s buried over there?” he asks, after some silence passes. 

“What do you mean?”

“There’s that big memorial in the middle of the graveyard. How come his body’s not buried there?”

Tsunade shrugs.

“I guess because Mom and Tobiji didn’t want anyone disturbing him.”

Orochimaru nods his understanding.

A small eternity passes like this- Tsunade wouldn’t mind if it lasted forever. 

“Where do you live? I can walk with you,” Orochimaru offers. “It can get dangerous alone at night.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Orochimaru lets her set the pace while they walk, content with the silence. She seems happier now- or at least, she isn’t crying anymore. And that makes him happy, too.

They’re happy with the silence, until-

“- _ there  _ you are!”

A woman who looks quite like Tsunade sprints up the street, dropping to her knees and pulling her into her arms. She shakes with a combination of fear and relief.

“I told you not to run off,” she sobs, crushing Tsunade against her. “Something could’ve happened to you-”

“...’M sorry,” Tsunade mumbles, hugging her mother back. “I just...I wanted to see Jiichan…”

“I’m just glad you’re safe…”

The woman finally looks up and notices Orochimaru standing there.

“Who’s-”

“He’s my friend,” Tsunade answers. “Orochimaru, this is my mom.”

“Friend?” Orochimaru mumbles, cheeks turning bright pink.

Tsunade offers up a smile that turns his heart to mush.

“I’ll see you at school,” she assures him.

“Wait,” her mom calls, when Orochimaru turns to go on his way. “Are you gonna be okay all by yourself?”

Orochimaru just nods, then continues on his way. Even though the autumn night is cold, he feels oddly warm.


	3. Once upon before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of team Hiruzen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, bitches!

“Aw come on, you gotta be kidding me!”

Jiraiya’s chair screeches on the floor- Tsunade groans, already feeling annoyed when he points indignantly at Orochimaru.

“-Whaddaya  _ mean  _ I gotta be on a team with  _ that  _ guy?!”

“Jiraiya, please sit down. The teams are based on your individual skills, so there’s a reason for it. Calm down and be quiet.”

His face goes beet red when a handful of their classmates start laughing at him. He glares daggers at Orochimaru, who’s more interested in reading through his textbook than acknowledging Jiraiya’s anger. Tsunade huffs, sinking deeper into her seat and wishing she could vanish from existence.

“Ah jeez, Tsuna-chan, I’m really sorry,” her friend whispers sympathetically, leaning in closer and patting her shoulder. “It’s bad enough you’re stuck with Jiraiya, but  _ that  _ guy, too? You gonna be okay?”

Tsunade shakes her head, pushing her friend farther away and motioning for her to be quiet. Her friend obeys, mouthing  _ “Good luck”  _ before turning to face the instructor again.

Tsunade tunes out the rest of the team announcements, turning her head toward Orochimaru and resting her cheek on her hand.

He seems so intent on his battered, worn-out textbook (pretty much the condition of everything he owns, it seems). What could he possibly be reading in there that’s so interesting?

-She stifles a yelp when he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, ashamed to be caught staring. But, to her surprise, he doesn't seem annoyed by it. The smallest trace of a smile quirks his thin lips upward, before gold eyes turn back to the yellowing pages.

“-Alright, each of you will wait here to meet your Jounin instructor. I expect you to treat him with the same respect you’ve given us here at the academy.”

The instructor bows low, surprising the children watching.

“It’s been an honor teaching you,” he says. “Please do your best as Shinobi and Kunoichi of this village.”

With that, the man leaves the room. A wave of chatter erupts amongst the class; girls help each other try on their new headbands, boys show off the new jutsu they’ve been practicing. Jiraiya continues to sulk low in his chair, face still beet red (as it should be).

Tsunade pays lip service to her friends’ excitement, but inwardly wonders what’s wrong with her, that she isn’t  _ glad  _ to be graduating. After all, how many hours has she worked, studying til she couldn't keep her eyes open, training til her bones ached- shouldn't she be happy?  


After marinating on that thought for a bit, she stands up, walking a few seats over to where Orochimaru is sitting, and plops down in the empty chair beside him.

“Hey, new teammate!” 

(she tried to sound cheerful, but feels like her tone fell flat.)

“Sorry about Jiraiya. I know he’s a turd.”

Orochimaru shrugs, then turns the page of his book.

“I mean, maybe our Sensei will tell him to stop being so-”

“-You don’t have to pretend to like me just because we’re on the same team, y’know.”

“Eh?! I’m not pretending! If we’re gonna be together he might as well get along though right?!” 

Finally Orochimaru shuts his textbook, with an expression something like a grimace.

“...You really shouldn’t get too close to me,” he says, flatly. “I’m pretty sure I’m cursed.”

Tsunade blinks.

“Huh? Cursed?”

“People I like apparently don’t live very long. I’d hate for something bad to happen to you all because of me. Better not to risk it.”

“What’re you on about?” Tsunade demands, reaching to grab his shoulder. “Stop saying crazy stuff-”

Her fingertips barely brush his shirt before he’s snatched her wrist out of the air. He glares at her, gold eyes almost glowing through the dark curtain of his tangled black hair.

“Don’t touch me. I hate that.”

“S-sorry-” Tsunade mumbles, pulling her hand away.

Orochimaru huffs, pushing his book to the end of the table with one hand and shoving his hair out of his eyes with the other.

Tsunade gets an idea.

“Hey, you said not to touch you, but could I touch your hair for a second?”

“Huh?”

“Just trust me.”

Orochimaru wrinkles his nose at her, but, after some thought-

“-Fine, just for a second though.”

Tsunade smiles. She pulls her spare hair tie from around her wrist to stretch it around her fingers, then reaches out to pull Orochimaru’s hair away from his face. Ignoring his full-body flinch, she ties his hair back as best she can, given the state it’s in.

“There- I don’t know how you could even read with all that in the way!”

Orochimaru blushes a cute pink color, opting to hide his face in his hands without his hair to shield it.

“Stop it! You actually have a cute face, why would you wanna hide it?!”

“I’m not-”

Orochimaru peers out from between his fingers, going from pink to bright red. 

"You're ridiculous."

Tsunade glances around the room quickly. Their classmates are pulling out bento, unwrapping onigiri, bartering for things they’d rather have and lamenting the foods they long for, but can’t have due to the war. Then, the realization creeps into her mind that she’s never once seen Orochimaru eat anything the entire time they’ve been in class together.

“Hey it looks like everyone’s eating lunch now- my mom made temaki, and she always gives me way more than I can eat. You want some?”

Her new teammate scowls again, distrustfully.

“...Why are you being nice to me?”

“Cause you were nice to me in the graveyard the other night. It’s only fair.”

“I was?”

Orochimaru’s brow furrows in genuine confusion. Tsunade can’t help but snort.

“You’re kinda clueless aren’t you?” 

“What are you-”

“Just lemme share my lunch, okay?”

Pouting, Orochimaru doesn't protest further. Tsunade opens her own bento, pushing one of the temaki toward him insistently. 

“C’mon- we don’t have any fish right now, but there’s lots of carrot n’ egg in it because my mom likes it like-”

A spark lights up in Orochimaru’s eyes. He practically snatches the roll from her, taking a big bite out of it before she can even finish her sentence. He lets out an almost inaudible sound of happiness, and Tsunade smiles at him in a confused sort of amusement.

“Is it that good?” 

Orochimaru nods; he kind of reminds Tsunade of a squirrel, with his cheeks stuffed full like that. She keeps on smiling when she grabs the second temaki from the bento and starts eating it.

“You’re awfully skinny,” she remarks, with her mouth full. “Do they even feed you at that place?”

Another shrug.

“I get in trouble a lot, n’ they don’t let you eat there if they’re mad at you.”

“Woah, what?!” 

Tsunade’s entire body burns with indignance.

“That’s not fair!”

“Nothing’s fair.”

He speaks in a flat, defeated tone, brushing a stray grain of rice off his cheek. 

“...I guess,” Tsunade mumbles, staring down at her half-eaten temaki dejectedly. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“N-no, you’re fine! Geez, you don’t gotta feel bad!”

Tsunade feels a surge of guilt that she absolutely loathes, so she tries to squash it down.

Orochimaru finishes off his temaki, looking a bit sheepish.

“...Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just what teammates do, right? It’d be pretty stupid to let you starve.”

Orochimaru pulls a face, then shrugs.

“I guess.”

He goes back to his book after that, not yielding to any of Tsunade’s attempts to make small talk. She can feel Jiraiya’s eyes boring into both of them, but tries not to pay him any mind.

After about a half hour, the Jounin sensei start filtering in, taking their new genin students with them. After maybe another half hour after that, Tsunade finally hears someone address her.

“I’m here for Tsunade-chan, Jiraiya-kun and Orochimaru-kun?”

The voice sounds familiar, so she looks up.

Sure enough, she’s seen this man before. 

He’s quite unremarkable in appearance, of average height and build with mousy brown hair and a short beard to match. Despite that, and despite his plain features, Tsunade recognizes him easily.

(so does everyone else, judging by how quiet the rest of the remaining students have gone.)

She’d seen him plenty of times before, after all- usually with four or five other people, almost always accompanying her granduncle Tobirama. And again, addressing the entire village as the third Hokage. 

“Saru-” she blurts out, before flushing deep red when she realizes that using Tobirama’s pet name for him isn’t polite. “-Sandaime-sama, I mean-”

The man doesn't scold her though; he laughs instead, with the friendliest smile she’s seen.

“I suppose I don’t need an introduction then!” he chortles. “Good, that makes our job easier.”

He motions toward the door.

“Well, let’s get going then, shall we?”

Tsunade gets up immediately; Orochimaru follows her lead. Jiraiya needs another moment, staring awestruck, mouth agape before he manages to shake his head and obey the request.

“You’re not screwing with us right?!” Jiraiya demands. “You’re our sensei? For real?!”

“Why would I lie to you? That wouldn’t be very nice of me, would it?”

Jiraiya pulls an unflattering face, but he doesn't say anything more when they head down to the training grounds, seemingly unable to comprehend that _this _guy is their teacher.  


Sarutobi takes a seat on a fallen tree, and urges the three of them to sit on the ground in front of him.

“Alright, why don’t we take some time to get to know each other? Stuff we like, stuff we don’t like, what we wanna do in the future-”

The silence he’s greeted with prompts a nervous chuckle from the man.

“-Here, I’ll start-”

Sarutobi smiles at them, despite being greeted by incredulous faces in return.

“Well, as you know my name is Sarutobi Hiruzen. I’m twenty-two years old, and I just got married last spring. I love my wonderful wife Biwako, and as for things I dislike-”

He ponders that for a moment, scratching at his beard while he ponders.

“-I suppose what I dislike the most is when you expect it to be a sunny day, but it winds up raining. What I dream about for the future...well I suppose I want to put an end to this war, and all the others in the future. And as for my hobbies- well, that’s entirely my own business.”

“Hey no fair!” Jiraiya complains. Hiruzen ignores this.

“Why don’t you go first then, since you’re so keen on talking?”

The boy huffs.

“Fine! My name’s Jiraiya. I like pretty girls, and I hate that asshole over there!”

He jabs a finger in Orochimaru’s direction. Orochimaru blinks, mildly confused. But as quickly as the finger is pointed, Jiraiya turns it back toward himself with an imperious smirk.

“And what I want for the future is to be the best ninja ever! I want the whole entire world to know who I am, no matter where I go!”

Sarutobi laughs, shaking his head in bemusement. 

“Fair enough.”

He turns his attention away from Jiraiya now.

“I know who you are, Tsunade-chan. Why don’t you go next?”

“Eh?! Okay I guess- Um, I really like playing cards, and what I hate most is when people cheat at it. As for the future-”

Tsunade frowns, amber eyes wandering around while she tries to think, fiddling with her fingers.

“...I guess I haven’t really thought about that yet.”

“Well, what’s something you’d like to see in the next twenty years?” Sarutobi prompts.

“-I guess I want the war over, too. N’ I want people to get along like my grandpa wanted.”

“Lame,” Jiraiya grumbles. Tsunade shoots him a dirty look.

“That sounds wonderful!” Hiruzen says approvingly, paying Jiraiya no mind. Then, finally-

“-How about you?”

“What  _ about  _ me?” 

“Hey everyone else did it!” Jiraiya snaps. “Don’t be an ass!”

An irritated huff.

“-My name’s Orochimaru. I don’t suppose I like or hate much of anything. As for the future- I really don’t care.”

“What the hell kinda stupid-  _ ow! _ ”

Tsunade punches Jiraiya in the arm. Hard. He makes an obscene hand gesture at her; she sticks her tongue out at him. Sarutobi makes a halfhearted attempt to break them up, but keeps his eyes turned on Orochimaru.

Orochimaru doesn't seem to register how horribly depressing what he’s just said is. He dons a mildly irritated expression while Tsunade and Jiraiya burst out bickering, but shows no trace of any other emotion on his pale face.

“Now knock that off!” Sarutobi scolds, finally separating Tsunade from Jiraiya. “That’s not how teammates treat each other!”

Tsunade pouts, but stops her shouting. Jiraiya however, continues to spout a string of colorful profanities that a six year old boy really shouldn’t know.

“...Well then. Let me tell you what the plan is for tomorrow.”

This finally gets the three kids to pay attention to him. He stands up, straightening up to his full (albeit unimpressive) height and dusting his pants off.

“I want all three of you right back here at first light tomorrow morning. We’ve got a lot of work we need to get out of the way before we start missions.”

“The hell do you  _ mean,  _ we aren’t starting missions yet?!” Jiraiya demands, leaping to his feet as well. “What was all that stupid schoolwork for if we just gotta do more of it now?!”

“Just be patient and you’ll find out tomorrow. In the meantime, you three should head home and make sure to get a good night’s sleep!”

“Whatever. How lame- we don’t even get to do anything today…”

Tsunade stifles a yelp when Orochimaru pokes her between the shoulders to get her attention.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, hopefully.

“Yeah, first thing!”

A strange surge of fondness wells up inside Tsunade when Orochimaru smiles at her. It’s an uncertain, lopsided sort of smile, baring one of his abnormally sharp teeth. It occurs to her that she hasn’t really seen him smile before.

“- try to brush your hair before then, okay?” She urges him, making her voice as serious as she can. “You look like a creepy ghost right now!”

“H-hey!” 

Tsunade bolts after that, heading home at a sprint.

She bursts through the door like a bat out of hell, immediately heading for her bedroom, totally ignoring her mother calling after her. Digging through the little box on her desk, she picks out a few of her prettiest hair ties, stashing them in her school bag, deciding she’ll give them to Orochimaru tomorrow. 

Maybe that’ll get him to smile again.


End file.
